


We're the new face of failure (prettier and younger but not any better off)

by EmmaCarstairs



Category: Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare, the dark artifices
Genre: F/M, italic is for flashbacks, kinda based on strange love by halsey, some violence, this is sort of a song fic but there are no big chunks of lyrics thrown anywhere I swear, two stubborn teenagers, you wouldn't notice if I hadn't told you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 16:17:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5423675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmaCarstairs/pseuds/EmmaCarstairs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He couldn’t lose much more by asking. “Where is she?” </p><p>The Centurion almost seemed nervous to Julian. He didn’t look much older than himself, he realized grimly. What a fate the Scholomance was. He crossed his arms across his chest and stood a little taller. “You finally broke down. When are the tears coming?”</p><p>Julian tried to ignore the hopelessness swelling up in him. “I already chocked on my pride. What’s the use crying about it?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're the new face of failure (prettier and younger but not any better off)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Km2c](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Km2c/gifts).



> This fic messed with my head in a hundred ways but I think you're going to like the result (don't you think angst is the best thing ever?). Happy birthday, my dearest Elke! I love you to the moon and back.

They had been found in the most stupid of ways, really. It boiled Emma’s blood to think about it.

 

Dissimulation was not something they had taken seriously into account. Not after months of sneaking around and hiding that proved useless: nobody paid them mind.  People didn’t become suspicious of the two parabatai, of their strange schedules and sudden _errands_. If their behavior around each other changed as months flew by, they didn’t look twice.

 

They simply didn’t care.

 

So, half-a-legion of centurions barging in on them naked on Emma’s bed wasn’t exactly how either parabatai expected their Saturday morning to go.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“What are you doing with them? Let them go! They didn’t do anything!”

 

“That is not true, Livia. Y-“

 

“Shut your mouth, Tiberius!”

 

“What the hell is going on, guys? Why, where are they taking Jules and Emma…? Oh, no. _No_. Tavvy, go upstairs!”

 

“No, no, no! No, daddy! Don’t take him away too!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Emma was good, they all knew it. But breaking into a sprint, trying to run away? Not even she would have stood a chance against the most intensely trained, best Shadowhunters in the world. Dru liked to call them a mix of “stormtroopers and jedis, even worse than the first”. Not that Emma knew what those things (people? Toys?) were.

 

It pained her to know that the little girl would be all alone now. Drusilla, and Tavvy, and the twins.  Who would take care of them, when their uncle could barely keep himself from starving to death and their tutor had a life of her own outside the Institute? It was Julian’s fault as well as her own that they’d been spotted in their _misdeed_  by the highest echelon of warriors, no doubt betrayed by a member of their Conclave, and she knew it; yet she couldn’t help but feel like it was mostly her doing that left the Blackthorns at the Angel’s mercy.

 

She kissed Julian first.

She whispered into his ear the three words that drove him completely away from sanity.

She assured him that they could take on the world as if they were its rulers.

 

One glance in the kids’ direction (huddled together, trembling, crying) let her know how wrong she’d been.

 

 

* * *

 

 

A bulky woman dragged him by the shoulders, rejoicing –and loudly so– on the way his body crashed against the rocks that decorated the Institute’s entrance. Julian didn’t moan, or complain. He kept on kicking the dusty sand in attempt to stand on his feet, trashing all the while but never throwing the Centurion off balance. He would’ve pushed her away is his arms hadn’t been so crudely twisted together on his back – pulling at his joints and threatening to pop his shoulder.

 

He kicked her shin when she let go of him inside the jeep. One for him, one for Emma. He could listen to her shouts all the way from the other vehicle.

 

The woman wasn’t happy with that, even less when a few of the other Centurions began to snicker.

 

(She slapped him hard across the face, probably decorating his cheek with the imprint of a fat red hand.“A disgrace to Shadowhunters everywhere. The Angel won’t have mercy on your souls”.)

 

 

* * *

  


 

“You touch a hair on his head and I will have yours carved like a fucking jack-o’-lantern.”

 

“Easy there, tiger”.  The head Centurion smiled - _beamed_ -  at her. He put his hand away hastily after an attempted caress to her hair left her teeth millimeters  away from his skin. “If I were you, I’d watch my words. You don’t have the right to remain silent, and there is a lot you have to tell u–“

 

“I don’t have to fucking tell you anything”, she hissed.

 

* * *

 

 

_Emma gasped in his mouth as his hands wandered lower, and lower, and lower down her curves; each movement in sync with his thrusts and kisses. He had to swallow her loudly whimpered moans when he finally wrapped a hand around the back of her knee to hitch it higher, watching in heated satisfaction as her back arched and breasts heaved. So much for always trying to dominate.  Emma, let go._

_Let go._

 

* * *

 

 

They hadn’t been so heavily interrogated since the Mortal Sword was placed in their hands at the age of 12. But then, the questions hadn’t been so personal either.

 

(According to the head Centurion, they would have the privilege of going through the experience again very soon)

 

 

* * *

 

 

“She’s a pretty little thing… you know?” One of the men hissed in his ear, drawing the question that followed as if it would elicit the very sought after confession they were all waiting for. He had been insufferable since they’d locked him in that tiny, claustrophobic room.  Nothing could be heard from the outside and, admittedly, Julian was proud of himself for disguising his anxiety for Emma so well. “Feisty, also. How do you think…? Huh.” He smirked at the sight of Julian’s pronounced scowl. “Yeah. Put her in my lap and I’ll teach her a good lesson. She looks like she’d enjoy a good spanking.” He paused and leaned back on his chair, scratching an invisible goatee. “Does she, Jules? Does she like it rough?”

 

Julian didn't give the Centurion the satisfaction of seeing him smile after he spit in his face.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Emma Carstairs _what?!_  Oh my god, _really_?”

 

“I swear! My mom’s friends with the Inquisitor and she heard all about it. I think they’re being interrogated at the Scholomance right now or something like that.”

 

“Oh my god. They’re crazy, right?”

 

“They’re totally crazy.”

 

“Like, how could you do that with your parabatai? That’s so strange.”

 

“Come think of it, they _did_  look kinda too happy. Too close. Like, even for parabatai.”

 

“He’s so dreamy, though. I saw them at the beach a lot. She is, too. Ugh. Eww!”

 

“I know! I bet sex was crazy good. She probably scratched his back ‘til it bled.”

 

“You think? I mean, they had to keep it a sec… oh. _Oh_. I see how that went.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Centurions weren’t supposed to be liked. They were big, cocky assholes that liked to show off their hyper atrophied muscles almost as much as they liked to punch Emma in the stomach. (The beating got worse as her insults and evasives progressed, but, by the Angel! She could feel Julian’s pain. If she was already spitting blood he couldn’t be much better off wherever he was.)

 

Their sole existence demanded hate, and she did very much hate them. She specially hated the old man that walked in hours after she’d been left alone in the dark.

 

“You’re awfully quiet”, he said after a few minutes of silent glaring. Emma was too busy burning holes through his skull to pay attention. Then, “We’re tryna do what’s best for you, kid” he held up his hands when Emma snorted in disbelief and began the rhetoric.  “Really. You’re not to be trusted right now, and neither is your… good sense. I get it. You two think you’re too in love, and you can't think straight.”

 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not fucking insane”, she spat sourly.

 

“I ain’t sayin’ you are. Yet. Just, uh” he gestured in her direction, hands wavering about in a fashion too uncertain for him to be truly a Centurion. He sighed a moment later. “Look where you ended up. Kid, ’s all fun ‘n games ‘til somebody loses their damn mind.”

 

 

* * *

 

_Julian smirked, the imprint of their hands on the window of the car bringing fresh memories of last night along with a splotchy blush throughout his ears and neck. Emma shook her head with a witty comment – and stifled a laugh when he pulled her closer to him, silencing her giggles with kisses while she clumsily smeared the evidence into oblivion._

 

* * *

 

A bottle of water was thrown in his direction. After it lay there for well over a minute, a Centurion he hadn’t seen before moved forward to take it and drown a big swig. “It’s safe”,  he explained with a shrug. “You can take it.”

 

Julian didn’t.  He scanned the young man in silence, desperately looking for clues about anything. Maybe in his gear, his hands, definitely in the stack of papers he held in one of them. He couldn’t feel Emma, didn’t know where she was. How minuscule were the chances of him spilling information about the other _delinquent_?

 

He couldn’t lose much more by asking. “Where is she?”

 

The Centurion almost seemed nervous to Julian. He didn’t look much older than himself, he realized grimly. What a fate the Scholomance was. He crossed his arms across his chest and stood a little taller. “You finally broke down. When are the tears coming?”

 

Julian tried to ignore the hopelessness swelling up in him. “I already chocked on my pride. What’s the use crying about it?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I love you, I need you. I miss you. I’m sorry.”

 

I’m so, _so_  sorry.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_“I should tell you to leave. I know I should. I… I know where this is leading, Em.”_

_“Yes. But…?”_

_He shrugged “Yeah. Yes. I’m going to hell already”._

 

 

* * *

 

 

The big woman that had first dragged Jules away from her had filed her nails recently, or so it seemed to Emma. She fought down a whimper as she felt them pierce the skin of her neck, hands bruising and likely highlighting the love bites Emma knew were there. She could do nothing to push her away. “Your dirty secret is out, blondie.” The Centurion said after she threw a gasping Emma to the ground at her feet. The mad glint in her eyes was truly demented. “How much longer until you spill the beans? Do we have to torture him again?” Emma’s insides twitched as the Centurion kicked her ribcage with the heel of her boot, twice in mere seconds, earning a muffled scream from the young woman on the floor. She could barely breathe. Her teeth were biting down on her lips so hard, she could taste copper. “Do we have to torture him in front of you?”

 

“Secrets are supposed to be kept” Emma croaked.

 

 

* * *

 

_  
I love you. He finally said it back._

_It was curious how four words she’d heard a million times before, always coming from his mouth, could change her world so irrevocably when the context changed._

_I love you too._

_There was no turning back._

_She didn’t want to ever go back._

_Why couldn’t she freeze the moment and live in it forever?_

_They were young, and free. The night wasn’t expecting immediate choices from them. It guarded their love in the darkness, concealed their kisses with its stars. It was all she’d ever dreamed of._

_She knew she was beaming._

_“Oh, Jules. I love you”._

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'ed. Clearly.


End file.
